


Transit

by HipsterCat



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Gen, Humor, M/M, Plane Ride, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-07
Updated: 2013-08-18
Packaged: 2017-12-22 17:17:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/915934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HipsterCat/pseuds/HipsterCat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek has a chance encounter in a plane which may or may not develop into something more. Rated M for future content</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Teen Wolf and its character. That would be Jeff Davis and MTV
> 
> This is the first time I've written something in over two years so reviews, negative or positive, are greatly appreciated. Chapter two will be posted in a week. Or not if this offends people. Thanks for reading.

Wading through the throng of people trying to get their bags on the overhead luggage shelves, Derek kept his eyes trained on the seats. He didn’t want to accidentally pass it by and double back through all that. A dull ache was beginning to form at the back of his head, most probably from the stress of being delayed for 5 hours in the airport due to a freak storm and the mixed smells of perfume, cheap cologne, and cigarette smoke stuck on clothes and acrid sweat from the other passengers hitting him from all sides.

‘Row 6, row 7, row 8 and finally, row 9.’ Derek thought, a look of concentration on his face as he adjusted his carry-on bag up his shoulder. He raised his head to look at his seat, but there was already someone sitting on it – _defiling_ it – with a pair of dirty white Converse shoes that were sitting on the edge of the seat. The boy was pale, hair cut to a short buzz, the left side of his face peppered with a constellation of moles, his chin resting on his knees. He was absent-mindedly playing with his shoes laces, looking out of the tiny window beside him when Derek cleared his throat loudly.

“Holy sh-..!” the boy exclaimed, his feet comically kicking forward, hitting the seat before him as he clutched at his chest, his head turning wildly to face Derek. Upturned nose, perfect pale rose-colored lips, golden brown eyes, more moles, cheeks flushing, the boy sat there in shocked silence. He works his mouth for a few moments. “Uhm… hi.”

Derek raised an eyebrow at the boy. “You’re in my seat.” He said coldly.

“I – oh, well… yes, I guess I am.” The boy answered awkwardly, a nervous smile playing on his lips. He looks down and peeks up at Derek with those golden brown eyes framed by the most perfect lashes Derek has ever seen and he had to swallow. “Well… uhm, could I sit here instead, please?”

Derek cleared his throat again as he glared at the boy. Puppy dog eyes? Really? How old was this kid? He was about to open his mouth when the boy rushed on, perhaps sensing that Derek was, obviously, going to deny his ridiculous request. “You see I suffer from severe panic attacks and sitting by the window helps a lot a whole lot actually because I’m terrified of closed spaces and being in a plane thousands of feet in the air just stuck inside where you can’t see anything but walls and people and seats and it reallyreallyreally freaks me out,” the boy says all in one breath. He stops and takes a deep breath in, those damn eyes pleading.

This earned him a frown from the older boy as he tries to comprehend what the Defiler just said. He shifted his weight from foot to foot, thinking for a minute before relenting. “Fine,” Derek growled as the boy looked at him, a huge grin plastered on that stupidly attractive face. The boy exhaled in relief and held out his hands to Derek.

“I’m Stiles!” the boy said cheerily pausing for a bit before adding shyly, “And thank you _so_ much for switching seats with me.”

Derek stared at the hand outstretched before him, staring at the boy’s – _Stiles’ –_ long, slender fingers. ‘Damn,’ Derek thought, not really thinking at all. ‘Those would feel so good wrapped around my –‘ Derek had to stop. Stiles couldn’t be much older than 17. What kind of a name is ‘Stiles’ anyway? Shaking his head, he took the proffered hand at him and shook it. “Derek,” the older boy said in return, his voice gruff as he tried not to think of how. fucking. soft. Stiles’ hand was. “So where’s your seat?” he asked in a deadpan.

“Oh, yeah! I’m so sorry, it’s this one.” Stiles said, his hand patting the seat next to him. Caressing it, actually. Derek had to force himself to look away from the hypnotic way those fingers danced.

“Great.” He took his bag from his shoulder, rummaged through it for a bit before finding his book. He tossed it at his new seat before stuffing the bag at the overhead luggage shelf, barely fitting because of the younger boy’s bag. He squeezed into his row, picked up his book and plopped down on his seat. He managed to resist the urge to look at the hyperactive boy beside him who was staring at him with a small smile, fidgeting with the zipper of his red hoodie.

The cabin continued to fill with people slowly. Derek sat there in silence wondering if he should have gotten one of the business class seats instead, since the boy looked as if he was never going to let Derek have some peace. He continued to pointedly ignore _Stiles_ who seemed to be itching to start a conversation with him. The boywas practically humming with energy in his seat and Derek just had to wonder – again – if it was really too late to get a business class seat. ‘Aggravation and annoyance versus peace and leg room,’ Derek thought grimly. ‘Well… at least he’s nice to look at. Really nice. I hope he keeps his mouth shut the rest of the flight.’

An elderly lady took the seat on his left and the older boy sighed in relief. The seatbelt light flashed on and the cabin was filled with clicks. He tilted his head to the left and smiled at the woman beside him, her gray curls, kind pale green eyes and sharp features which were softened by the kind smile she returned to Derek. She looked past the older boy and her forehead furrowed in concern.

“Are you alright, dearie?” The woman asked, looking past Derek.

Derek whipped his head back so fast and looked at Stiles. He was pale and looked a bit shaky. His eyes were closed, breath shallow, his hands on his lap, tapping an uneven beat.

Derek nudged Stiles with his shoulders. “Dude, you okay?” he asked, a bit concerned. For his clothes and well-being. He really didn’t want to spend the rest of the flight trying not to breathe in the smell of sick.

“I’m fine,” Stiles answered weakly, his eyes still closed. “I’ll be fine. It’s always like this. I’ll be fine when all the shaking stops.”

“You sure?”

“Yesyesyes now please stop talking to me I might hurl and everyone will be mad at me.” Stiles said in a rush. He gripped his knees and squeezed. “I’m fine. Really, I am.”

Derek stared at Stiles and shrugged. He turned to look at the woman beside him. “He’s going to be fine, ma’am. No need to worry.”

“Is he really?” The woman asked with doubt. She craned her neck around Derek’s bulky body, trying to get a better look at the boy. “Do you want to hold my hand, dearie?”

“Nononono. I’ll be fine.” The boy answered through clenched jaws, his forehead slick with sweat.

The older woman and Derek shared a look, the woman obviously concerned. Derek sighed as the he rested his head on his seat. The plane began to taxi and that was when Stiles began to lose it. Big time.

“Holyshitholyshitholyshit,” Stiles whined, his head pressed against the back of his seat. “We’re gonna die we’re gonna die I don’t want to die I’m still a virgin no one wants to die a virgin I have to see my dad and Scott and Lydia and asswipe Jackson and Allison and Isaac and fuckfuckfuck.”

“Stiles!” Derek hissed, he lifted his head from the back of his seat. “You said you were fine!”

“I’m not I’m not holy shit I’m gonna die you’re gonna die the plane’ll explode and everyone will die shitfuckshit nonono.” Stiles gasped, his breathing erratic. “I can’t do this I can’t no no no.”

Derek stared wide-eyed at Stiles. A million thoughts were crossing his mind. He couldn’t even hear the other people around him trying to calm Stiles down when something clicked in his head. He removed his hand from the armrest and took one of Stiles’ hands into his own, giving it a reassuring squeeze. He leaned towards the younger boy, resting his forehead on Stiles’ temple and started to whisper calming words to him.

“Stiles, just listen to my voice,” Derek whispered into Stiles’ ear. “You’re going to be fine; no one’s going to die. Just focus on my voice and your breathing.”

Stiles whimpered as he adjusted his clammy hand and interlaced his fingers with Derek’s and took a deep, shuddering breath.

“That’s it, breath. Count with me to five and take a deep breath,” Derek murmured into Stiles’ ear. He wasn’t trying to breath in the intoxicating scent of the younger boy. Because that would be creepy. And he didn’t really like Stiles. Hell, he doesn’t even know Stiles. “One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Breathe.”

Derek held the younger boy’s hand for five more minutes, urging Stiles to take more calming breaths before extracting his hand from Stiles’ iron grip. He leaned back and looked at the boy. His eyes were still closed but obviously more at peace with the situation. Or he was sleeping. Derek stared at Stiles’ chest taking note of the regular and even rise and fall of the boy’s chest. He was definitely asleep. The older boy frowned a he realized how taxing a panic attack must be.

‘God, you’re gorgeous,’ Derek thought. It’s not like anyone can hear him think, as his eyes roamed the perfect features of the boy beside him. ‘If only you were a few years older…’

“You did a good job with him, dearie.” A voice to his left said, making Derek flinch. He turned around in his seat settled himself down for the long flight. He looked at the woman and just nodded. Derek took one more look at the boy beside him and smiled.

 

* * *

 

Derek was making good progress on his book when Stiles started to stir beside him. The younger boy grunted something in his sleep, distracting Derek from his book. Looking to his right, he saw that Stiles was facing him, his mouth slightly open. Derek smirked and returned to his book.

The older boy was in midflight nirvana, being able to concentrate on his reading. Page after page turned, his forehead furrowed in concentration. He loved this feeling, being lost in a whole new world with no one distracting him. He loved the smell, the feel of paper on his fingertips, the weight of the bound tome. Experiencing things, going places, meeting new people, it was all magical to him. His family found it weird, being the only one with an obsession like his. They were all outdoorsy and active. Not that he wasn’t. He just liked spending a bit of time away from all the stress in his life.

Namely his obnoxious family.

“A Dance with Dragons,” a groggy voice croaked to his right. “Caught the Game of Thrones bug, huh?”

Derek closed his book and turned to look at Stiles. The younger boy was peeking at him through half-closed eyes, a goofy smile on his face. He dog-eared the page he was reading as he debated whether or not to engage the Stiles in conversation. He tried not to think of how intimate he had been with Stiles earlier when he was trying to calm him down. Thinking that there could possibly be no harm in it, he decided to take the bait.

“No,” Derek huffed at the boy, his forehead wrinkling into a scowl. “I’ve been reading _A Song of Ice and Fire_ since I was in high school.”

“Oh! Wow, that’s really cool,” Stiles answered as he perked up. He ignored the scowl that Derek gave him. “I started reading it too even before it went mainstream. I read the first one when I was 14 and I was grounded for a month during summer because I hid in my dad’s car when he went to a murder scene. It was all downhill from there.”

The scowl from Derek’s face disappeared. He raised an eyebrow at the younger boy, obviously impressed. He was starting to like Stiles. A lot.

Not that he was going to admit it.


	2. Chapter 2

“Of course House Stark is your favorite,” Stiles said as he rolled his eyes at Derek. “It’s the direwolves, isn’t it? Or you have a huge crush on Robb or Jon?” Stiles smirked evilly at him. “Actually, you know what… you look like you could pass off as a Stark with your dark features, facial hair and broody nature though they tend to have more lithe physiques, not at all bulky and muscle-y. I guess that helps when you’re fighting since you’re able to move faster.”

“Broody? You don’t even know me,” Derek countered with a frown. The way Stiles said broody didn’t sit well with him, like it was something unpleasant. He also wasn’t sure what to say about the younger boy noticing his well-maintained body, if it was a compliment or not, so he decided to ignore it. “And yours is so cliché. House Targaryen is vastly overrated in my opinion.”

“Oh, come on now. Look at your forehead. You literally have frown lines etched on it. I bet I could make peanuts stick in one of those creases. If that’s not broody, I don’t know what is.” The younger boy answered as he flicked a finger at Derek’s forehead which made the older man recoil back into his seat. Stiles giggled a bit before his face became a mask of seriousness. “And do not insult House Targaryen in front of me. Dany will reclaim the Iron Throne, make no mistakes about it. I mean, her children are dragons. Dragons, Derek!”

“I don’t see how having dragons can mean instant victory for Daenerys,” Derek said stiffly as he leaned his forearms back into the armrest between his and Stiles’ seat. He was really starting to enjoy their discussion, especially Stiles’ snarky little comments or the random detours he always imposed on their arguments. “Sure the Lannister’s grip on the Seven Kingdoms is slipping and order is almost non-existent and there’s the War of the Five Kings, but how sure are you that once Daenerys lands in Westeros the people rally to her? She may be Westerosi by birth but all her life was spent in Essos and don’t forget the supposed Aegon VI.”

Stiles plopped back into his seat his brows furrowed and eyes closed. He seemed deep in thought about Derek’s question. Derek couldn’t help but stare _– again –_ at the boy before him. Beautiful couldn’t even begin to describe what the older man was looking at. His breath hitched in his throat as he tried not to imagine what it must be like to trail a finger down the bridge of his nose to that upturned tip, to run his fingers through that pragmatic hairstyle of his, to place his lips on top of Stiles’ own. He tried to swallow when Stiles opened his eyes and turned to look at Derek, surprising the older man, who somehow choked on his own saliva and had a coughing fit.

“Are you okay?” Stiles asked, a weird expression forming on his face.

“F-fine,” Derek said between coughs trying to will down the blush he was feeling that was heating up his face and ears.

Stiles gave him a curious look as he reached down his seat and took a bottle of water that was resting by his feet. He shook it in front of Derek with a small smile and offered it to him. Their fingers briefly touched and all the older man could think about was when Stiles was having his attack and their hands interlaced. He quickly withdrew his hands and gave Stiles a strained smile and a weak thanks. He took a quick swig and promptly returned the bottle to Stiles.

“Do you like anchovies?”

“What?” Derek asked, mystified as he gazed at Stiles serious expression.

“Anchovies. Do you like them? On pizza? On salads? On toast? On anything?”

Derek stared at the boy in wonder, perhaps incredulously. “Uh… no, not really.” He shook his head to emphasize his answer. Anchovies. They were talking about amazing modern literature one minute and now they’re on anchovies? Derek, who, on a good day, barely speaks a hundred words or less was talking to a boy he met 3 hours earlier about _fish_. “I find them disgusting, to be honest.”

A grin burst out of the younger boy’s face and Derek forgot how to breathe. He felt like he was sucker punched and he didn’t even mind. As long as he got to look at that magnificent view of Stiles’ face with his big goofy grin on it.

“Oh my god oh my god _I know right_?!” Stiles said through his grin, rocking in his seat. “Jesus Christ I was beginning to think I was the only one! All my friends _love_ it on pizza so every time we have some I have to pick them out and make Scott eat them though I could still taste some of the _rotten_ fish because you know the oils leak out and I swear that’s their way of torturing me for whatever nefarious purpose because I always plead with them to have one without the _vile_ fish and they say fine fine and then the pizzas arrive and every single one has those vile monstrosities!”

Derek’s eyebrows almost disappeared into his hair as he tried to keep up with Stiles’ mile-a-minute impromptu speech. Seriously, did this kid do anything normal? Despite his aversion to blabbermouths, Derek was surprisingly tolerant with Stiles. Maybe it was because most of what Stiles said had _sense_. Or that he was surprisingly intelligent enough to carry on a decent conversation about anything, even something as inane as _anchovies_. Or that he was heavily infatuated with Stiles.

“Oh, what do you do for a living?” Stiles asked the older man, shaking him from his thoughts.

Derek cleared his throat as he slumped back into his seat and stared dead ahead. “I teach English.”

Stiles choked.

“You – you’re a teacher?!” the younger boy asked incredulously. “Like, really? Wow! I would’ve guessed a personal trainer, or at a garage or something being so buff and that cool leather jacket, which looks really hot why don’t you take it off? You teach like actually teach? That’s really cool. Wow. I never really would’ve guessed. Just goes to show you don’t really judge a book by its cover huh.” Stiles snickered as something dawned on him, his eyes widening comically and his mouth a big O. “Oh my god oh my god how many of your students are in love with you. Wait, wait, wait. What level do you teach anyway? Okay don’t tell me don’t tell me I’ll guess. High school, right?”

Derek nodded stiffly.

“I. am. good.” Stiles said smugly.

Derek rolled his eyes at that. He didn’t even deign to answer Stiles’ question about how many of his _underage_ students were supposedly ‘in love’ with him. Instead, he settled with what he hoped was a dignified silence.

“What about you? Still in high school? I meant grade school. My bad.”

“Har har, teacher’s got jokes. I’m in college, for your information. Double major in Biology and Chemistry.”

It was Derek’s turn to gape.

“What? Do I really look that stupid?” Stiles asked in a fake hurt voice, right hand clutching at his chest.

“N-no,” Derek stammered, mentally giving himself a slap as his voice stuttered, sounding weak and pathetic. Seriously, what is it with this boy that makes him act like a teenage girl? Stiles hasn’t even given Derek any hint if he was into guys anyway. “You just look you ought to be in high school.” Then it hit him like a ton of bricks. _Stiles was in college. He was_ legal. He had to ask though. Just to make sure. “How old are you, anyway? He added casually.

“Should I take that as a compliment? Cause it’s just annoying when I still get asked for IDs when I go watch gory movies. And I just turned twenty last month,” the younger boy started stroking his chin as his eyes glinted with mischief. “Now I’m gonna guess yours. Hmm. Well you’re obviously in your twenties. You do have lots of lines on your face although that probably the result of your excessive frowning and glaring and other unpleasant facial expressions.” Stiles tilted his head to the side as he continued to survey Derek’s face. “Can I poke your forehead?”

Derek was about to say no when the younger boy’s forefinger pressed into his forehead earning Stiles a real frown. Was the concept of personal space lost on this weird, attractive boy? It lingered for a second or two which wasn’t all that bad, to be honest, but he was never going to admit that to Stiles. The finger withdrew and he rubbed at the area where Stiles poked him, as if the contact burned him. Which it did. Metaphorically.

“I don’t have cooties. Get over it,” Stiles said sarcastically. “Skin’s smooth and well moisturized; I’d place you between twenty three and twenty five.”

Derek’s eyebrows almost shot into his hair again. That was eerily accurate. “Twenty four.” He murmured.

“What?” Stiles whispered back mockingly. “I didn’t catch that. Or are we talking like this now cause we might disturb the other people?”

Derek cleared his throat and glared at Stiles. Who didn’t seem to mind it in the least. Was he losing his edge? Usually his glares shut other people down in a second. But not Stiles. He seemed oblivious about it, like it was just a mask Derek puts on to keep people away. Which it partially was, if he was being honest. “Twenty four,” the older man said to Stiles in a clear, no-nonsense kind of voice, like talking to one of his students. “I’m twenty four.”

Stiles smoothed the front of the blue-and-black plaid shirt he was wearing smugly, and then he brushed his shoulders like he was sweeping off dandruff, ruining the effect. Derek had to try _so very hard_ not to giggle at that. He was biting the inside of his cheeks to keep the sound from coming out but he couldn’t quite control the twitching of the corners of his mouth. Stiles stopped mid-brush when he saw the constipated look on Derek’s face

“Do I need to ask?” Stiles inquired with a confused smile.

Derek shook his head vigorously at that. He took a couple of deep steadying breaths as Stiles continued to look at him with that confused deer look on his face. ‘Too cute,’ Derek thought a small smile forming on his lips. “Sorry, it just looked like you were brushing off dandruff from your shoulders with your sick moves.” Derek said with a straight face, a fit of giggles just bubbling beneath the surface.

Stiles confusion was replaced by mock outrage as he punched Derek lightly on the arm. “You. ass.” The younger boy said, emphasizing each word with a punch. Derek wasn’t really all that bothered since his younger sister had the habit of doing that too. “You just had to make me look lame, didn’t you?” Stiles said as he punched Derek one last time before slumping into his seat and crossing his arms across his chest.

“Come on, it was a little bit funny,” Derek snickered. When Stiles pointedly ignored him, he sighed and groped the pocket of the leather jacket he was wearing and produced a snack sized candy bar. He looked at it longingly before tipping it, with a sigh, in Stiles direction. “Here. I’m sorry.”

“Aaaaah! Oh my god totally forgiven!” Stiles exclaimed as he sat up clumsily, his arms untangling gracelessly from their interlocked position. He grabbed at the candy bar and smiled triumphantly at Derek. “This isn’t poisoned, is it? You’re not trying to get rid of the annoying one with backing from the entire flight?”

Derek had to roll his eyes at that. “Yes, one of the nice hostesses gave me that to shut you up permanently,” he said sarcastically. “Now give it back if you don’t want it.”

Stiles looked like he had been slapped. “Return _this_?” he gestured at the candy bar as if it were some holy relic. “I don’t think so.”

He then turned away with his back facing Derek as he unwrapped the treat when a loud ‘ding’ filled the cabin. Derek frowned and looked up at the seat belt sign and saw that it illuminated. Derek heard the muffled sound of a small something dropping before hearing Stiles swear.

“ _Shit.”_


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if this one is pretty bad. Well, worse than usual. It was kind of rushed and I'm kind of in a wee bit pain right now due to a metal canister filled with water crushing my right foot's middle toe. Also, too tired to proofread so I'll fix it up if something's wrong.

Stiles shifted in his seat _again_. He couldn’t keep still turning this way and that, crossing and uncrossing his legs, playing with the zipper of his red hoodie, and chewing his already swollen bottom lip. Derek observed uncomfortably as Stiles tried to stay calm and control his breathing. He wondered briefly if he should just take Stiles’ hand in his own like earlier, but he didn’t want to freak out the boy. Derek really wished that the younger boy didn’t remember any of that. Thinking about how spontaneous and _right_ it felt to Derek scared him a bit. They were still thirty minutes away from touchdown and that was a long time for someone with an altered perception of time. Derek was starting to get genuinely concerned.

“Hey,” Derek said, nudging Stiles’ knee with his own, not looking at the boy directly, instead focusing on his hands. “Anything I can do?”

Stiles tipped his head forward and just shook it as he gripped the armrests tightly.

He really wasn’t one to just babble on, but in this case, he was willing to make himself look like a fool just to put Stiles at ease, even for a bit. ‘I mean… I’m really doing this for myself,’ Derek thought. ‘If he started to have an attack again, I’d be more inconvenienced than if I just talked to him for a bit, to distract him.’ He reasoned with himself. Breathing in deep and releasing a deep sigh, he turned to Stiles, seat belt biting into his waist.

“Do you have an iPod?”

“W-what?” Stiles stammered. “O-oh, yeah…”

Derek heard a small chuckle behind him, fully aware that the elderly lady seated on his left was _not_ reading her book. ‘Eavesdropping and gossiping really was the favorite pastime of ladies past a certain age,’ Derek thought derisively.

“Can I borrow it?”

Stiles nodded as his right hand released its death grip on the armrest and shakily extracted the slim gadget from his pocket. He almost dropped it when he handed it over to Derek, the iPod slick from Stiles’ sweaty palms. The older man tried not to grimace as he wiped the sweat away. In a second, he was in the music app and scrolling through the artists Stiles listened to and frowned.

_Adele, The All-American Rejects, Arcade Fire, The Beatles, Bastille, Beyoncé, Bjork, The Black Keys... Florence + the Machine, Foster the People, The Fray, Green Day, Hot Chelle Rae, Imagine Dragons, Ingrid Michaelson… Jake Bugg, Jet, Jessie J., John Mayer… Ke$ha, Kelly Clarkson, The Killers, Kings of Leon… MGMT, Mumford & Sons, Muse, My Chemical Romance… Radiohead, The Ramones, Regina Spektor, Ryan Adams, Sara Bareilles, Slow Kids at Play, Stars… Tegan and Sara, Two Door Cinema Club, Vampire Weekend, Various Artists… The White Stripes, Winterpills… The xx, Yeah Yeah Yeahs…_

‘What. the. fuck.’ Derek thought in amazement. He didn’t know 95% of these singers, bands and musicians. He tapped the ‘Songs’ button and scrolled to the very end. It had more than 4,000 songs loaded. ‘Who needs so much music on the go?’ Derek asked himself, fishing for his pair of earphones from his pocket. He randomly selected a song as he put one of the earphones on his right ear. He frowned as a mezzo-soprano voice wailed at him about raising defenses to guard against love and what the fuck. Derek shook his head, proceeding to tap the ‘Shuffle’ icon. ‘Demi Lovato?’ the older man asked himself, looking at the title of the song and the artist. He rolled his eyes as he tapped the ‘Next’ button. And kept tapping until he found a song he knew, which took longer than he expected.

I Wanna Be Sedated by The Ramones. ‘Perfect,’ Derek thought with a snicker. He leaned towards Stiles and plugged the other earphone into the boy’s ear. Stiles didn’t protest or even acknowledge that he was okay with it so Derek just let him be. He tapped the iPod once more and punk rock music pounded into his and Stiles’ ear. They sat there in silence for a couple of minutes, just listening. He peered at Stiles and he noticed he was visibly relaxed now.

Derek adjusted the volume; lowering it just enough to hear the music as background noise. He nudged Stiles again, this time with his shoulder. The younger boy looked at him questioningly, with a small smile on his face. “Feel better?”

“Surprisingly, I do,” Stiles nodded, the tension from his body now evidently gone. “Thanks…” he dropped his head and looked at his hands, as if they were the most fascinating things in the world. He started picking out non-existent dirt between his fingernails. “Again,” He sighed deeply, his voice just above a whisper now. “You know… for earlier and now obviously. That was really nice of you. I think I would have been kicked out if it wasn’t for you. You must be really good at your job.”

Derek just nodded at the boy, glad that he wasn’t looking at him. Obviously he was embarrassed. Hell, Derek would be too. Actually, you know what? He was. He was starting to feel his cheeks and ears getting warm. He didn’t really take compliments all that well and he’d rather not have someone acknowledge it if he did something nice for them.

“So what do you plan on doing when you graduate?” Derek asked Stiles softly. “Biology and Chemistry makes it sound like you want to be a doctor if you do continue with your studies.”

Stiles snapped his head up, his mouth hanging open. “I – yeah, that’s the plan,” Stiles said. He swallowed and opened his mouth, as if unable to continue, but he did. “Not really something I want to discuss right now.”

“Okay. I understand,” Derek answered sympathetically. He knew what it was like to be badgered by people – meaning his family – into talking about something he didn’t want to. “What kind of a name is Stiles anyway? I’m sorry, but I find it really –” Derek managed to stop himself before he said ‘weird’. He cleared his throat as Stiles cocked an eyebrow at him. “Unusual.”

Stiles, an eyebrow still cocked at Derek, began to explain the mystery of his name. “Stiles isn’t really my name. It’s just a nickname I picked for myself because of the atrocious name,” he drew air quotation marks at the word ‘name’, “my parents deemed to give me. I was gonna go with ‘He-Whose-Real-Name-Must-Not-Be-Uttered’ but it was too long.”

Derek chuckled softly at that. At how silly and endearing Stiles was. “So what is it?”

“What’s what?”

“Your name,” Derek said, exasperated. “Your _real_ name.”

The younger boy just looked at him. Then he burst out laughing so hard he bent over, holding his stomach, the earphone flying out of his ear. A few alarmed whispers and shushing were heard all over the cabin. Derek couldn’t be bothered with them at the moment, since that was what exactly he was doing: trying to shut Stiles up even though he was getting goose bumps hearing the younger boy laugh with abandon.

“Stiles, shut up! Or at least get yourself in control!” Derek hissed at Stiles but Stiles just waved a hand at him.

After a couple of minutes, Stiles did manage to get himself under control. He was still bent over, giggling when Derek noticed something was below the seat tray in front of Stiles. He looked at the seat in front of him and there it was, below the folding seat tray, a small seat pocket to put stuff in. His was stuffed with magazines and the one in front of the elderly lady beside him who was still ‘ _reading’_ her book was empty. His eyes darted to Stiles’.

It was stuffed and bulging.

He squinted his eyes, trying to see what was in the younger boy’s seat pocket and saw a mobile phone, a roll of candy, a paperback, and… _Stiles_ ’ _passport_.

Derek looked at Stiles. He was still busy trying to get his giggles under control, still bent over, his hands on his face now. Derek discretely reached over, managing not to bump into Stiles, and casually took the younger boy’s passport.

Derek flipped it open and Stiles’ somber face greeted him. He would have taken a picture of it if that wasn’t so creepy. He stared at it for a few seconds more, trying to fight the grin on his face. Derek scanned the rest of Stiles’ passport and he almost burst out laughing. Good thing he had excellent control over his emotions.

Well, most of the time he did. There’s something about Stiles that makes him feel just a bit giddy.

He flipped through Stiles’ passport again, looking for the most recent stamp. ‘The UK, huh?’ Derek thought fondly. He’d been there once before with his sisters, though much of his time was spent trying body checking guys who got too near the two Hale women, much to their annoyance.

Derek pocketed the passport and waited for Stiles to get up and act like a normal person again. A grin seemed permanently stuck on his face when Stiles looked up at him, his head resting on his knees, his face so red. He sat up straight again and giggled at Derek – _again_.

“Oh, Derek,” Stiles said breathlessly. “Do you really think I’d tell you something so _personal?_ We only met a couple of hours ago. You’d need at least a year and a half to find out the first letter of my real first name.”

It was Derek’s turn to cock an eyebrow at Stiles. “Fine,” Derek growled, though he was trying really hard not to smirk at the boy. He trained his face into a mask of mock indignation. “I’ll find out eventually.”

“Does that mean you plan on sticking around?” Stiles teased, poking Derek in the side.

Heat immediately crawled up Derek’s face and ears; it felt like steam was going to come out of his ears. “I – where do you live, anyway?” he managed to utter.

Stiles snickered, seemingly pleased with Derek’s reaction, “Small town 30 minutes outside of San Francisco. Small, uneventful town called Beacon Hills.”

Derek’s eyes widened at that. “I’m sorry, did you say Beacon Hills? Beacon Hills, Beacon County, California?”

“Yes!” Stiles exclaimed gleefully. “I’m surprised you know the place. Maybe it’s becoming famous. Or infamous? Ugh infamous seems more likely. The most boring town in the state of California.”

“I’m from Beacon Hills too.”

Stiles gaped like an idiot. “Derek _Hale?_ The former baseball wonder child of Beacon Hills High? Shit, that was why you looked so familiar.” The older man nodded stiffly. Stiles held out his hand to shake Derek’s hand. Again. “Stiles Stilinski.”

Derek shook it quickly, feeling foolish. “Derek Hale,” he murmured. He narrowed his eyes into suspicious slits. “Wait, you’re not the Sheriff’s kid, are you?”

“That I certainly am,” Stiles said beaming. “What are the odds, huh?”

The older man tapped Stiles’ passport in his pocket. ‘His dad is the Sheriff, should I risk my safety for a bit of fun?’ Derek thought nervously. ‘Ah fuck it. It’s not like I’ll end up in jail.’

Stiles looked out of the window and cheered. “We’re here! We’re still alive!”

Derek snorted as he felt the jolt that signaled their landing. Stiles kept looking out of the window with a smile on his face, calm and happy.

 

* * *

 

“I’m kind of in a hurry. My sister’s picking me up and she is not the most patient of people,” Derek said solemnly. He took his bag from the overhead shelf and shouldered it. “So, I guess this is good-bye for now, Mr. Stilinski.”

Stiles pouted. “You’re not even gonna wait for me to get my stuff so we can go down together?”

“I really can’t, I’m sorry.”

“Fine. You owe me a slice of pie for abandoning me here like this, all vulnerable and stuff.”

“Yeah, sure,” Derek agreed absent mindedly. He began to walk away, his strides long. He wanted to get away from Stiles before he figured out a certain something was missing.

“Pie, Derek! You’re not getting away from that no matter how fast you walk away from me!” Stiles shouted after him. “I’ll find your house and tell your mom how horrible you were leaving a poor, helpless guy in need like me!”

 

* * *

 

Derek slipped effortlessly between the crowd, maneuvering between people and their luggage. He stopped for a second to ask for directions before he was off with haste and purpose. The room loomed before him, quiet and unassuming. He stood before the door, looked behind his shoulders to make sure no one was following, took a deep breath and went in. He was out and on his way in less than five minutes.

 

* * *

 

“Stop your grumbling and keep looking, old man.”

“I can grumble all I want,” John said angrily. “We could have been eating now, you know.”

“I get it, I get it! No need to go all Bruce Banner on me. It was an accident. It couldn’t have gone far.”

Derek was across the hall, leaning against the wall as he watched the frantic search of the two men. He felt guilty for putting the Sheriff through this but he really couldn’t pass up the opportunity.

A minute or two later, the intercom dinged.

**CAN A GENIM STILINSKI PLEASE PROCEED TO THE SECURITY OFFICE? CAN GENIM STILINSKI PLEASE PROCEED TO THE SECURITY OFFICE. THANK YOU.**

Stiles froze in his spot as his dad shook his head. The Sheriff took his son by the arms and started to drag him towards the Security Office, the younger boy’s head hung in shame. Derek crossed his arms in front of him, a smug smile on his face. He pushed himself off the wall and started walking towards the exit. The pair and Derek met halfway through the hall.

“Good luck, _Genim.”_ Derek said with a snicker, loud enough for Stiles to hear.

Stiles snapped his head up, eyes wide at the realization of just happened. He stopped walking and threw Derek a dirty look. “Pie isn’t gonna cut this one, Derek,” Stiles growled at the older man. “You better be as loaded as everyone says because you’re gonna take me to dinner at the fanciest place I can find on such short notice.”

Derek smirked at Stiles as he was being dragged off again by his father. He didn’t really mind taking Stiles out to dinner, all dressed up.

It didn’t sound half-bad at all.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well thanks you guys for still wanting to read this. I didn't really know how to write this chapter cuz I don't have all of this planned out, just that I have a beginning and an end. An 'A' and a 'Z'. I don't have all the in between and I'm mostly making this up as I go and this is an extra crappy chapter but the next one will be better. Hopefully.
> 
> Oh, and I started leaving easter eggs, which started on chapter 3, I think. I hope you catch them :3

Light poured in to his room while he stood silently at its threshold, his shadow stretched out before him melding with the darkness. Stiles smiled nostalgically at his old room, breathing in the familiar scent of it. He walked through, dragging his bags behind him. He deposited his things haphazardly by his old desk and flopped on his bed and made sheet angels, giggling softly in the dark. It was good to be home. He took his phone from his pocket and sent a single word text to his best friend.

_**Back :)** _

His promised call  _or_  email to Lydia when he got home could wait until tomorrow, although he was pretty sure he'd never hear the end of it. He rolled his eyes in the darkness and grimaced at the thought. Even though she was a couple of thousand miles away, it was still a scary thought.

Stiles got up from his bed to wriggle out of his clothes and shoes until he was just in his boxers, stretching this way and that. He made a quick trip to the bathroom to brush his teeth and wash his face before the motivation to move left him. He was exhausted beyond words and he really wanted to just lie down and let his bed eat him up until god knows when. He returned to his bed, got under the cool covers and closed his eyes.

Only to open them a couple of minutes later. His body was so beat and craved the rest his bed provided but his mind was operating on overdrive. It really wasn't that he was  _too_ tired to send Lydia a message. He knew that it wouldn't stop at one or two messages. Lydia would literally squeeze all the information out of him and he didn't really feel like being violated by someone who was thousands of miles away.

Stiles just wanted to lie there in the darkness and  _see_  that stupidly attractive smirk that Derek gave him as he walked away after humiliating him. He frowned at the twinge of pain he felt in his chest, though. It was really embarrassing and the time and effort he and his father put into finding his stupid passport was just a foolish prank for Derek.

He wasn't angry. He knew that after a good night's rest, he'd probably be laughing about it too. Hell, he and Scott did so much worse to each other during their high school days of pulling unexpected pranks on each other, sometimes with severe civilian involvement. Like that time when Stiles managed to take a voice recording of Scott singing Last Friday Night (T.G.I.F.) by Katy Perry at the top his voice and playing it at a party. Or that time when Stiles was trying for YouTube stardom and he lip synched to Wannabe by the Spice Girls wearing the  _ugliest_  shirt he could find. He lost courage and changed his mind when Scott found the offensive video one day while they were doing research on his computer and actually uploaded it and sent the link to just about everyone.

Stiles pulled the sheet up, covered his head in it and moaned loudly. He really liked Derek. He just wasn't sure if Derek liked him or if he was even into dudes. He was a teacher and he's probably that way with his students too. He's really charismatic and totally  _gorgeous_. 'I need to do a bit of creeping,' Stiles thought, plans already forming in his mind. 'Good thing I have that thing Jackson asked me to give Danny. Tit for tat.' He rubbed his face with his hands. 'Ugh… even if he did like guys, what gives mousy little me the idea that he'd even want me?' Stiles started slapping his face lightly. 'Stop that. No negative thoughts before all the evidence is in. Now sleep the jet lag off.'

He sighed in the darkness and turned on his side. His eyelids felt so heavy, now that he had a plan to execute and all the thinking done. For now. Stiles groped his nightstand for his iPod, slapped his earphones on, and got lost in the music.

* * *

Stiles felt as though he'd just closed his eyes when Scott came into his room and pounced on him with a cry of excitement. Stiles wanted nothing more, at that moment, than to reach out, grab his best friend by the head and wring it back and forth until his neck broke. He was the sheriff's kid; he could get away with it. Instead, he snarled and tried to bury his head under a pillow, all the while trying not to die from Scott's suffocating weight.

"Scoooooott," Stiles moaned, trying to sound pissed off. "Get your huge ass off me and let me sleep some more or you won't get your present."

"Your dad told me I could wake you up! It's already 3 in the afternoon, so  _you_ get your huge as off your bed and give me my present!" Scott said, bouncing up and down, rocking Stiles' bed. "Come on, come on!"

"Scoooott, fuck off,  _please_. There, I asked nicely now leave me alone. Where's Allison, anyway? She needs to keep you on a tighter leash or something." Stiles grumbled. He knew he wasn't going to win this one and get rid of Scott. Doesn't mean he can't make it…  _hard_  for his best friend. Pun most definitely intended.

Scott flopped on top of him and continued bouncing. "Come on, come on, come on!" Scott chanted. "What did you get me, come ooooon."

Stiles grinned into his pillow. "Scott," Stiles said, his voice low and breathy. "Scotty, you're turning me on with all that rocking."

His best friend jumped out of his bed so fast his feet tangled in the sheets and Scott fell down face first into the floor. Stiles burst out laughing and it felt good, familiar. He was only gone for 2 weeks but it felt like 2 years, not being able to hang out with Scott and goofing around, even though they did it rarely now ever since Allison came into the picture a year ago. Stiles and Allison became fast friends, but the couple usually wanted to spend their time alone with each other. Probably doing each other.

Stiles finally heaved himself into a kneeling position, looking down at Scott massaging his face. He held out a hand, still snickering as Scott took it with a small frown. He didn't see that glint of mischief in Scott's eyes. His best friend's other hand suddenly snaked up, grabbed his forearm and tugged so hard that Stiles lost his balance and followed Scott to the floor. Stiles lay there stunned, all the wind from his lungs gone when he hit the floor side first. He opened his mouth to curse at Scott, but they both burst out laughing.

Yep. It was good to be home.

* * *

"No, go wait in the kitchen. Better yet, prepare some cereal for His Majesty here," Stiles said in a British accent so bad it made his own hair stand on end. "I'm going to take a shower, eat some cereal, and then give you your present."

"But –," Scott managed to utter before Stiles cut him off.

"No buts, Scotty. Now go be a dutiful best friend and leave me be for a while or do you want to see me wash my todger?"

"Your  _what_?"

Stiles just smirked as he pushed Scott out of his bedroom. "Google it, buddy."

Scott harrumphed and made a whole lot of noise as he went down the stairs and started assembling the ingredients for the perfect bowl of cereal. Satisfied, he got some clothes and proceeded to take a quick hot shower before his best friend started to snoop around for his presents. He was drying himself off when Scott knocked so hard he jumped and almost slipped.

"I DO NOT WANT TO SEE YOU WASH YOUR JUNK!" his best friend shouted at him through the door before storming off.

Stiles got dressed quickly, but he noticed the way his room was subtly changed. Like how his bags were arranged a bit differently, or the sheets on one side of his bed was tucked underneath the mattress. Stiles expected this. Good thing he didn't hide Scott's presents in his room.

He went down to the kitchen and sat at the table, his cereal just that perfect texture of soggy with a bit of crunch in the middle. Scott sat opposite him frowning and muttering under his breath as Stiles slowly savored each bite. He ate his cereal excruciatingly slow, trying to see how soon Scott would crack. Stiles looked at Scott each spoonful he shoveled down his mouth, egging his best friend on to say something. Surprising Stiles, Scott managed to keep his mouth shut as Stiles got up to deposit his bowl in the sink.

He looked at Scott smugly and gestured to him to follow. They silently made their way upstairs again and Stiles went into his dad's room. "Go wait in my room," Stiles told Scott as he rummaged in his father's closet.

When Stiles came back into his room holding a box, with a smaller one perched on top of it. Scott was sitting cross-legged on his bed and started bouncing up and down again as Stiles got nearer, on his face a huge grin.

Stiles sat at the edge of the bed, careful to keep the boxes away from Scott as he made grabby hands at them. "So," Stiles said, taking the smaller rectangular box and handing it to Scott. "This is for Allison," he took the bigger box and carefully handed it over. "And this is your birthday  _AND_  Christmas present."

Scott gaped at him. " _AND_ Christmas?" Scott said, horrified.

"And Christmas," Stiles confirmed.

Scott started to gingerly remove the packaging and tape from the box, producing a small Swiss Army Knife to remove the offending tape from the sides. He carefully removed the numerous paddings and gasped as his gift came into view.

"Stiles…" Scott said, a bit breathless. "This is… this is  _perfect_."

Scott took his present out of the box, Pink Floyd's The Dark Side of The Moon: Immersion Edition, and laid it down reverently on Stiles' bed. He ran a hand over it, a small smile on his face. "Best gift  _ever_ ," he whispered. He put it back in the box, paddings and all and launched himself at Stiles, tackling him in a hug. "Thank you."

"No problem, buddy," Stiles said happily as he returned the hug, patting Scott in the back. "Best friend ever, right?"

"Best friend  _ever_ ," Scott agreed, letting go of Stiles and settling back. "Wow. How am I gonna top this?"

"Well, you can always sell one of your kidneys…"

* * *

They spent the rest of the afternoon watching a movie (Teen Wolf with Michael J. Fox) and making small talk about Stiles' impromptu London adventure. Apparently, Allison was away for a couple of days to visit her grandfather who was sick and Isaac was too busy with work.

"I met someone," Stiles blurted out as Scott was in the middle of telling him how he missed Allison's cookies.

"Duuude! Why mentioning this to me just now?" Scott asked, his eyes narrowing. "Did you meet him over there?"

"Because I'm not sure about it? I need to do a lot of research on this guy. I'm meeting Danny later to give him something from Jackson so I'm going to ask for his help. Actually, you might know him. I sat next to him on the plane ride home and he's from here too. Beacon Hills. Yeah, I know that's a crazy coincidence, right? I had such a great time talking with him –"

"Stiles, slow down I can't –" Scott said as he struggled to keep up with his best friend, but Stiles just talked through it.

"And I think he did too but I'm really not sure. He's a teacher so I was thinking that he was just humoring me or something, trying to keep me calm cuz I had a panic attack and shit I haven't sent an email to Lydia yet she is gonna skin me alive."

"Whoa, whoa! Slow down!" Scott said holding his hands up. "Take a deep breath and begin from the start, slowly."

Stiles looked back at the T.V. and sighed. This was going to be a long, long talk.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So. I'm sorry for the long wait and short-ish chapter. I was really having a hard time trying to think up of something to write for this chapter and I only got to it due to a friend of mine badgering me into writing it. I'll try to have a chapter out once every two to three days again (hopefully). And if I don't, you guys can badger me on Twitter (you guys don't need to follow, just badger me and I'll try to wring something out of my poor wrung out brain) at @dorkitup13
> 
> Thanks for reading!

To: Lydia Martin

Subject: Ho Hey!

Good day, my Queen. I would like to inform you that yours truly has arrived safely and in one piece, although I may or may not have had an attack. No worries, I was in good hands. _Really. good. hands ._ I’ll tell you all about in when you get homeso no use in badgering me over email since I can ignore you even though I know you’d make my life a living hell. I hope London is still as fun without me, now that you’re stuck with your walking asshole for a boyfriend

Your Court Jester,

Stiles

 

* * *

 

Stiles stretched and yawned with his hands over his head. He arched his back, savoring the heavenly feeling of his muscles straining, relieving the slight stiffness there. He smiled groggily at his phone’s screen before tapping send. He had been only up for a couple of hours after he was unceremoniously woken by Scott but he was still dead tired, perhaps his body still catching up and adjusting itself to the right time zone. It was only eight in the evening and he still had to stay up for at least four more hours.

“I need to go out,” Stiles muttered in the darkness of his bedroom. “Danny has plans so that’s out. Scott’s got that thing with his mom and Isaac is at work.” He was holding up his hands counting down them down one by one. “Aaaah, I’m so sleepy and bored!”

Stiles got up from his bed and threw on his sneakers, grabbed his keys, his phone, the book he’s currently reading and went for the door, the muggy summer air hitting him in the face like a brick wall. ‘I’m just gonna wing it. It’s what I do best anyway.’ He patted the hood of his Jeep as soon as his hand could reach it. “I missed you so much, baby,” he cooed at it. “Never leaving you again with that old codger I have the misfortune of calling my dad. Look at you in need of a wash!” Stiles said as he dusted off his palm before climbing in. “Maybe I’ll have Scott do that,” he added, smirking at the thought.

 

* * *

 

Stiles parked in front of 24-hour convenience store, pocketing his phone before getting out of his Jeep and stepping inside the store. He bee lined his way into the cold beverage section, took 3 cans of coffee, slinked into the junk food/snack aisle and took a large bag of Lay’s Cheddar and Sour Cream and secured it under his arm before proceeding to pay for his haul when he spied an unsettlingly familiar figure in front of the register. He crouched down, hoping the shelves hid him well enough. He inched his way to the edge to take a peek. He couldn’t be hundred percent sure but the height, broad shoulders and haircut were right. One of the cans from his hands almost slipped when the man spoke.

“Yes, that’s all,” Derek huffed, obviously flustered.

“That will be fifteen dollars and eighteen cents,” the clerk said in a cheerful voice.

Stiles peeked out again just as Derek was handing over money. The older man looked utterly embarrassed, staring at his feet as the clerk bagged up his purchases. He ran a hand through his hair, took the bag from the clerk and uttered a gruff thanks before going out the door, walking as if his shoes were on fire. Stiles sprang from his hiding spot, hurried to the register and dropped his stuff on the counter. He ran to the glass doors and peeked at the retreating figure, who was fumbling for his keys.

“I’ll come back for those!” Stiles yelled at the confused clerk as he exited the store and ducked behind the nearest car, which was mercifully close.

His own Jeep was a couple of feet away, near enough to make a run for it, crouched and ninja-like. He hunkered behind the car for a bit more before making a mad dash for his Jeep. He threw himself into the driver’s seat and groped at the back for the black hoodie he always kept there for emergencies. He found it after a second or two, ignoring the unwashed smell of it as he put it on as if his dear, _dear_ life depended on it. He pulled the hood over his head and proceeded to search for his target. His eyes spied the older man slinking off to the edge of the parking lot, his head still hung low. Derek stopped in front of a black Camaro for a couple of seconds. His back turned to Stiles, and disappeared into it.

‘Holy shit, so he’s really loaded,’ Stiles thought, awe struck and maybe slightly drooling as he stared at _gorgeous_ car.

Derek’s Camaro roared into life and sped off into the night. It was Stiles’ turn to fumble for his keys as he frantically keyed his Jeep into life so he could follow Derek. To find out where he lived so he can demand that fancy dinner which he didn’t object to. It wasn’t creepy at all what he was doing. It was a whole lot better than asking Danny to use his magic fingers to pull up everything he could find on Derek, which might not be entirely legal. So _following_ Derek was a compromise. It’s not like he was _stalking_ him. It was purely coincidence that they happened to be in the same convenience store at the same time and, like the master of winging it that he was, he came up with this brilliant but borderline creepy plan.

Stiles drove towards the direction that Derek’s car disappeared into, speeding off into the darkness. He drove in silence for a bit before he caught sight of the almost invisible Camaro. Stiles turned off his headlights and slowed down just enough to put a respectable distance between the two vehicles. Stiles started tapping a beat with his free hand, as was his habit when he started getting nervous. He drove in relative silence with only him and his beat and his thoughts to keep him company. When he realized that he wasn’t paying attention on where they were going as he was so focused on the car before him.

Stiles peeked out of his windows, trying to discern any telling landmarks to determine where they were headed. He didn’t see anything specific but the abundance of trees so he was sure that they were headed towards the forest, nearing the edge of the preserve territory.

‘Wow. Talk about privacy issues,’ Stiles thought nervously. ‘This is not normal. It’s like the Cullens living in the middle of nowhere and we all know how special _that_ family was.’

The drive continued for a couple more minutes and Stiles was having second thoughts. He was pretty sure that Derek knew someone was following him by now since they were the only two vehicles Stiles has seen on this fucking road. It was something like out of a horror movie, this road. He shifted gear and slowed down so he could turn back and just do this the old fashioned way, which was asking his dad for access to his office computer, when the black Camaro he was stalking, yes, _stalking_ , skidded to a halt in front of him, blocking the road in front of him completely. Stiles had to stomp on his brake hard even though he was going relatively slow now, out of surprise, and his Jeep stalled and died.

“ _Shit_ ,” Stiles muttered under his breath as he pulled his hoodie lower down his head and raised his window. “ _Shit shit shit_ why did I think this was such a _genius_ idea?”

Derek exited his car gracefully, one booted foot over the other and stood in silence in front of Stiles’ Jeep. The older man crossed his arms in front of him and leaned back into the sleek vehicle behind him.

“You know this would be a lot easier if you just came out of that piece of crap Jeep before I haul you out of there and accidentally kick you in places with these steel-toed boots that would at least cripple you for thirty minutes, long enough for the sheriff to throw your pathetic ass in jail,” Derek said loudly, his voice calm and even.

Stiles sat there in his Jeep stunned and unbelieving of what he just heard Derek, a high school English teacher, just said to him. Derek, who held his hands and calmed him down when he was having a really bad panic attack. His body refused to move. Soon, Derek was walking towards the Jeep – him – slowly, as if he were merely taking a stroll through the park. He reached the Jeep and sauntered towards the driver’s side and rapped his knuckles at the window.

“So what’s it gonna be?” Derek asked through the sheet of glass separating them.

Stiles shakily rolled down the window, not daring to look at Derek, the hood of his jacket hiding his face excellently.

“My sister has just about had enough of you,” Derek said coldly at him as Stiles startled, still unable to talk. “You’ve broken your restraining order what, 3 times now?”

“I –,” Stiles began but Derek cut him off.

“Come near my sister again and I will personally rip you apart limb from limb,” Derek growled at Stiles, slamming his hand on the side of his door.

Stiles sat there stewing in cold sweat when his paralysis broke. “You know, I don’t really know anything about your sister,” he said his voice shaking a little as he turned his head towards Derek and letting the hood of his jacket fall off his head. “I was under the impression that I was stalking you.”

 


End file.
